


As our differences divide us

by Bow_woahh



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Catra (She-Ra) Leaves the Horde, F/F, Mentioned Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow_woahh/pseuds/Bow_woahh
Summary: Adora believes in the Horde. Catra doesn’t.OrAn AU where Adora (with the sword) stays with the Horde and Catra leaves for the Rebellion.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 98





	As our differences divide us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatraHappinessClub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatraHappinessClub/gifts).



> Hi everyone! I know, I just posted a work like less than 2 weeks ago, but I guess I’m on a roll. This work is for the She-Ra Winter Gift Exchange, my recipient was catrahappinessclub who requested a canon divergence AU, which is something I rarely write, and ended up being a bit of a challenge for me. One I thoroughly enjoyed however. Anyway, I hope you like it!

The first time they see each other after Adora’s recovered from Thaymoor, Catra assumes things will be the same.

Well, actually, her instincts have an _inkling_ of doubt.

Of course, she doesn't voice this to anyone—especially not to Adora herself. Instead, she goes back to the barracks; sits on Adora's (practically their) bed and waits, because immediately after _she’d_ recovered Adora and gotten her back to the Fright Zone, Shadow Weaver had (according to one of the senior cadets who’d been there after Catra was shooed away) taken her in for _questioning_ —what does that even mean? And why ask Adora who was barely conscious when they'd gotten back, when there was all the other cadets, or better yet, Catra?

She laughs to herself.

The witch obviously just wants Adora to herself, to congratulate, indoctrinate, whatever it is she normally does. Catra thinks if it was her in that situation, it would hardly be as nice; Weaver would somehow turn it into a punishment as she always does. Never Adora though. _Never_ Adora, and as long as she's okay, Catra can live with herself. But—

She shakes her head and doesn't bother entertaining the idea.

Getting increasingly impatient, Catra tries to occupy her mind, but she can only focus on how her tail can't seem to stop moving, and she wonders what they're doing that's taking _so long._ It takes so long for Adora to come back that Catra starts to dose of in that time, comfortable at the foot of her _–their–_ bed. One eye cracks open when she smells the faint familiar scent of Adora, who must still be making her way to the barracks. Her tail perks up, and her ears twitch as she listens out for the footsteps of her friend; her pupils practically dilate as she waits poised to tackle Adora onto the ground the moment she sees her.

Before she even passes through the doorway, Catra is already springing off the bed to greet Adora unceremoniously, saying a split second too early, “Adora!”

However, when she finally enters, the Adora she expects to see is far from the reality.

_Weak._ She’s frail, barely standing, to the point where Catra is surprised she’s managed to get here all the way from Weaver's lair. Eyes half lidded, bags burrowed deep, out of breath—no doubt from exerting more energy walking—how is she _worse_ than before?

"Catra…" she all but whispers, before collapsing into her arms, nearly the ground, though Catra catches her just in time.

“Jeez Adora!” Catra hisses, panicked as she drags her to the bunk. She lays her down slowly, one hand cradling her head and the other on her back.

All Adora does is give her a reassuring smile, practically mouthing, “Sorry...I’m just a little–”

“Tired? Yeah I know, you were gone for a while, y'know, but what…What happened out there?” Catra interjects, curiosity – and concern – getting the best of her.

“I went to recover the sword.” Adora states plainly, as if she expects Catra to understand the importance of it. The day they stole the skiff flashes back into her mind: the rush and adrenaline of driving it; the giggles and laughter; the Whispering Woods; the shoving and pushing; driving just a little too high which ended in Adora falling and then—

“You mean the sword you _thought_ you saw after you hit your head?” Catra says, sarcasm bleeding through her voice, even though she saw a glimpse of it earlier, not only is it hard to believe the thing’s real, but also it’s an easy jab at a bleary Adora who glares at her halfheartedly, shaking her head.

Sitting up slightly, leaning in and grabbing hold of one of Catra’s hands, she says, “Catra, _It’s here,_ I found it. I was right! I think it was, like, calling to me.” The grip on her hand only gets firmer as Adora says a smidge quieter than before, “I’m sorry I didn’t let you come with me, I just didn’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf.”

Makes sense. Adora’s always so considerate and careful about not getting her in more trouble than she’s usually in with Shadow Weaver. Catra appreciates it at times, and at others...it feels like even Adora sees her as a pet to keep out of their ration bars.

Catra sighs, but it isn’t exactly out of exasperation. “Fine. It’s fine. I saw it anyway—I was just messing. But, I thought you’d be feeling better by now.”

“Huh?” Adora says, and it perplexes Catra immensely. Is she that delirious from debilitation she doesn’t know what she’s talking about?

“The sword, it must have tired you out or something, right? You were barely awake when we’d gotten back.” Catra looks at her, expecting something back, expecting this to prompt her memory, and although it seems like Adora’s trying, she has this blank look on her face which she tends to make when she pretends to know what she’s talking about.

“Yeah...the sword,” Adora nods, far too slowly for it to go unnoticed, and in any other situation Catra would laugh at the empty stare she’s receiving, but Adora’s just gotten back from the _black garnet chamber,_ after being gone for nearly a whole day chasing after some magical sword.

“What happened before?” Catra asks, hoping all she needs is a little more probing.

“Before what?” Adora replies, face falling into utter defeat as she admits she has no clue what Catra’s talking about.

_“Before_ we found you, Adora!” Catra says, hands moving away from her and voice rising above the optimum level for a fatigued, confused Adora, who as a result flinches at the shift in volume. She instantly wants to apologise for it, but she can’t bring herself to, in fact, she virtually forgets to when she goes to look at Adora again, who’s concentrating so hard on searching for the answer Catra wants.

Evidently, thinking intensively is far too taxing, as a second later Adora is wincing, hand gripping her head as if she’s trying to push back against the pain, in a fight she’s bound to lose. Catra moves a little closer, and in an attempt to comfort her, places her both hands on Adora’s face, one atop of Adora’s hand tangled in her hair. She whispers ‘it’s okay’ over and over, until the winces and whimpers placate, and she brings both their hands back down to Adora’s lap.

“Did...you don’t remember do you?”

Adora shakes her head, looking down and the grimy floor.

“Do you remember leaving? Finding the sword? Being in Thaymoor?” Catra implores, trying to see how big the gap in her memory is.

“I...I remember leaving, and finding the sword…” she speaks slowly, as if she’s trying to picture the events in her head. “Then, I think that...there was—”

“There was what? C’mon Adora, think,” Catra says eagerly, adamant to try and fit the scattered puzzle pieces together which are Adora’s thoughts.

Adora shuts her eyes, humming, softly at first then, as she continues, “I think there...there–” she winces again, this time harsher, almost guttural and choked up, the grip on Catra’s hand dead tight. Catra’s eyes widen and she realises she may have pushed too hard again. She bites the inside of her cheek.

“So you don’t remember?” She asks again, despite not needing the clarification. Frankly, she’s just not sure what to say at this point.

Adora, once again, shakes her head and says quietly, “no.”

Catra recalls the events of today and how she had felt. How her excitement had quickly dulled as they passed through Thaymoor, seeing all those dead bodies, seeing mere children, seeing people her age, laying limpless on the ground, void of all life. If she hadn’t been with the Horde...would that have been her? She had no doubt it would. Hordak, Shadow Weaver, they’re both cold blooded and hardened, unempathetic, unsympathetic even. Catra, on the other hand, she’s not like that, no. Hardened, maybe, but she’d never...she’d—she wanted to throw up. How could Shadow Weaver send them there? Well, she knew exactly why. Her obsession with Adora was as clear as day to see, seeing as she sent a _whole squadron_ to look solely for her.

She swallows back the bile in her mouth at that thought, just as she always does when similar things come and intrude in her mind. Then she thinks of something else. “That sword...do you remember using it?”

The question seems to unnerve Adora, as she looks down at their hands in her lap. Catra hopes she isn’t asking too much of her, hopes Adora isn’t hurting herself for her again. “I, um, just remember a surge of power...and feeling heavier and lighter at the same time, and uh, like electricity was rushing through my veins. It’s less of a memory and more of a feeling, I guess.”

“So you remember using the sword—or the feeling of using the sword, but not why, where, if there was anyone with you…” Catra uses her free hand to scratch the back of her head.

“Well, I do know we were in Thaymoor, Shadow Weaver said just as much. I just don’t know what actually happened.” Adora says. “Why does it matter anyway? It was probably just the sword, Shadow Weaver said—”

“If it was the sword, why can’t you remember anything _before_ using it?” Catra says, only mildly irritated at Adora’s usual obliviousness, even if it’s more acceptable than usual considering the circumstances. It’s impossible not to consider the one conclusion she wishes she could stay away from: Weaver. The old hag must have done something. Catra isn’t sure what, but figures it must have something to do with that sword.

From what Adora says about it, using the thing must have tired her out...Catra wants to believe that’s all there is to it, that Adora is just weary from a power that frankly seems beyond the Horde and beyond them all—though Catra doesn’t have time to dwell on that at the moment. Though surely, Weaver would want to replenish her star students energy then? The unease Catra feels is too glaringly obvious for her to ignore, and her instincts all tell her to push on and uncover the answer she knows she’ll receive.

“What else did Weaver say to you? About the sword.”

“She said it possesses a lot of power that only I’m able to use, and how she could strengthen it to be even more of an asset to the Horde.” Adora says it pridefully, clearly pleased at herself and Shadow Weaver’s praise.

That’s when it clicked. The sword's power. It’s linked directly to Adora from what Catra can gather, so...her coming back like this _had_ to mean Weaver took some of that power. She realised years ago that black garnet only has a finite amount of power, meaning the same can be said for Weaver. But would she really...to Adora? And what did Adora see that made the hag erase her memory? Was it something that could ruin the Horde? That would make Adora realise Shadow Weaver’s poor treatment of everyone and...and of _Catra?_ Maybe she realised and she—

“It was _her.”_ Catra’s face contorts into something close to anger and disgust mixed into one, hand pulling away from Adora’s.

Predictably, Adora’s face falls, similar to the bewildered face Catra’s seen countless times before, but yet different, with a hint of something else Catra doesn’t bother to put a name to. Adora sits up fully, leaning against the metal wall as she says, “No, she’s helping, like she always is, she cares and wants me to succeed and—”

“They’re using you! Can’t you see?” Catra’s standing up now, hands waving around maniacally, desperate for her to realise what’s always been right in front of her.

“No, _they’re not._ Clearly, you’re just jealous and don’t want to admit to it Catra.” Adora’s voice is firm and unwavering, like she well and truly believes it. Catra wants to think that it’s only because of whatever mind wiping the witch has done but even before—

“I–” Catra cuts herself off, swallowing down any words she thought to say, deflating completely from her rise of temper.

Adora moves to the side of the bunk, facing Catra fully, who doesn’t miss the small grunt of exertion she lets out doing so. It makes her heart hurt seeing Adora like this, incapable of making it better.

“I don’t understand the problem Catra. Isn’t this what you wanted? With the sword, I can be on top, we can be on top... _together.”_

Technically, she’s not wrong. Catra did say she wants that. Though, she’s starting to realise only one of those things is alluring to her. One of those things is sitting right in front of her, in pain because of them, because of _her._

“They’re hurting you, Adora. _She’s_ going to hurt you more, and I can’t just stand and watch, not when—” Catra stops herself, refusing to look at Adora in case she breaks down right here—she can already feel the cracks in her voice, the bottled up emotions and years’ worth of feelings seeping through that are meant to be contained, that are meant to stay below the surface.

“Hey, Catra...” Adora says, soft enough it soothes her ailments, allows her to look up off the ground. She pats the seat next to her and Catra finds herself ambling over, despite everything, despite how she’s angry and upset; she finds herself in Adora’s arms, ears flattened and tail curling around Adora waist, pressed into her chest, trying to suppress any whimpers, any noise at all from making her weakness more overt. Eventually, Adora’s hand migrates to scratch behind her ear, and any noise that were once whimpers are now purrs, and for a while it’s _enough._

_It would always be enough,_ Catra thinks, _if it weren’t for the Horde._

That’s when she voices what she’s been thinking for...for too long, but never dared to utter it, knowing it wouldn’t be taken seriously, or worse, it would be turned down, and she always thought if that happened, that her heart would crack in two. But maybe, just maybe Adora would. Maybe she would this time.

“We could...we can leave here y’know—Together, tonight. We, uh, We can rest up and then just like you did in the middle of the night we can, yeah, we can leave, only this time we don’t come back. You, you can take your magic sword too, and we can figure it out together. Can’t we?”

And it’s crazy, maybe a little impulsive, definitely desperate, but Catra thinks things could work, and for a second Adora looks like she thinks it could too. Then, just as she expects deep down, the words she’s been dreading come out.

“Catra...I can’t,” she says, touch unwavering as she continues to stroke behind her ear, as if to pacify her, or simply delay Catra from exploding.

There’s a possibility it works, however Catra thinks it’s more likely that she just feels too weak to fight Adora, not like this, not when she already lost the battle before it had begun. Still, she tries again, no matter how futile. “Why? Why not Adora?”

Adora lets out a small sigh, but answers nonetheless. “Well...this, it’s our home, and the Rebellion, they’re dangerous. Shadow Weaver said they must be the ones responsible for my current state, and it only makes sense. You have to understand that we’re safe here, Catra.”

At that, Catra laughs, she can’t help it, and Adora’s touch wavers now, and Catra sits up, gazing right into her eyes. She knows exactly what she wants to say, what she’s always wanted to say, but instead, she settles on: “Then how come you can’t remember a thing? How come you’ve come back here looking worse than you did after Thaymoor? Answer _that.”_ She spits each word out like venom on her tongue, and the look Adora gives her tells her she feels it too.

Searching far and wide to form words that will make an appropriate response, Adora holds Catra’s stare, then slow and calculated, she says, “Catra...we already went through this and I—”

“Because _really_ Adora,” Catra starts, voice slowly rising, “I know you can be pretty oblivious but I thought even you could see that the Horde are _not_ the good guys!”

The reaction Catra gets is not at all what she anticipates. Adora’s countenance goes from the once calm expression to one of hurt, guilt — which Catra _can’t_ wrap her head around— then as if a memory’s resurfacing, she clutches her head as she did before, only this time, she truly looks like she’s in _pure agony,_ so Catra puts aside her grievances once more and pulls Adora close, who whimpers, cries, whispers nonsense, some of the words sounding close to an ‘I’m sorry’. She holds her like this until the whispering stops, until the cries stop, until the whimpers stop, and holds her past that too, until everyone else is trailing in to get to their bunks and Adora is sound asleep. None bother to take note, or poke fun, or worse, threaten to report it. Maybe they will tomorrow, but Catra’s bribed (or threatened) for their silence many times — Not that tomorrow matters for her.

Catra lets herself cling onto this moment, lets herself indulge as much as she possibly can, especially knowing this is the last time she’ll be able to. For a little while, she closes her eyes, listens to Adora’s steady breathing and the sound of metal clanging and pipes churning. Age old comforts. Soon after, when she knows for a fact everyone is deep in their own slumber, she wriggles out of Adora’s strong hold (still firm although she’s asleep) slowly enough not to wake her, slowly enough that it’s almost excruciating for herself. She lets out a sigh as she looks at Adora’s sleeping form. Beautiful, even like this. Catra’s never had to say goodbye, not to anything she’s actually cared about. This is a first. One she never thought she’d experience. A single tear rolls down her cheek before she reminds herself she’s past that, and wipes it quickly, disregarding its existence.

_I hope we see each other again,_ Catra wishes to say aloud, but refuses to try her luck, _hopefully under different circumstances._

She contemplates writing a note, but that seems far too incriminating, not to mention she doesn’t have much time. Instead, Catra’s parting gift is much simpler: one kiss on her knuckles, and then, because she can’t help herself, one on her forehead too. This one lingers for a moment, just as she wishes she’s able to do, but she knows her time is up. Realising she has no clue where she’ll go, she stops to think, and her mind wanders back to her and Adora’s conversation. Shadow Weaver and Hordak have always claimed the Rebellion were evil. Though, seeing as their words had no influence on Catra’s thoughts anymore, who’s saying it’s true? It looks like she’d be heading to the Whispering Woods again then. And somehow, Catra would figure out exactly what happened, she _would_ help Adora.

As she leaves the barracks, Catra looks back one last time, but this time she can’t linger too long, because she’s sure she’d change her mind and give in. This time, she can’t afford to. When she starts walking she doesn’t look back.

_Goodbye Adora._

The next time they see each other, Catra knows things will be different.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you guys enjoyed! As I said before, I found this kind of difficult to write, mainly because I tend to overthink whether or not characterisations or if small details are right, and how this and that can make sense in the canon whilst obviously not being the canon...If that makes any sense. Though with this, everything clicked in place when I had the idea to have Shadow Weaver mind wipe Adora, which she would of done in the canon if it wasn’t for being stopped, and possibly has done before (I read some metas about it awhile ago). I really enjoyed writing this though, and hopefully I’ll do more canon works in the future!
> 
> Also, I have a kind of announcement — I’ll be going on a hiatus of sorts throughout January and a little bit of February. I’ll might put more details on my tumblr and Twitter but pretty much: exams, and I don’t want school to kick my ass. It’s unfortunate, and frankly I don’t know if it’ll even help or prove to make me more miserable, but we’ll see. 
> 
> However, I’ll probably still be active of social media (this is a terrible plug) so follow me on:
> 
> Tumblr: bow_woahh  
> Twitter: BowWoahh


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